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The Reluctant Dark Knight/Part 12
Please note that only Numbuh 404 may edit this page. Foreshadows Cast Out in the woods, Johan sat up in the saddle and plodded through a clearing covered in harsh, icy snow. The skies were dark blue and grey, suffocated by thunderous clouds pouring out large, clumping flakes. He wore his normal attire and did not feel cold – instead, his body was warm as if it were summer – but poor Bayard was chattering his teeth and whinnying. He pet his neck and shushed him until they came upon a strange, broken down little hovel sitting on a hill overlooking the ocean, and it was void of snow. Curious, he dismounted and the frozen earth beneath his feet collapsed away when Gargamel stepped out of the hovel. While Bayard reared and turned, galloping away, the knight clawed at the snow with the desperate hope of resisting his disappearance into the darkness below. His efforts were futile, but when his grip failed, his arm was grabbed by the old wizard who yanked him up onto the grass surrounding the hovel, and the snowflakes melted and dried from their clothes instantly. “You can’t walk on the snow without falling,” he explained with the voice of the King replacing his own, “You can only walk freely on the grass now.” Johan got to his feet and looked around; the ocean had vanished, and from where he stood, the forest was invisible, swallowed up by the frightening snowstorm. He glanced down and the line of frostbitten land clearly marked winter versus spring. He moved his foot onto the snowy side and at the mere hovering, it sank down into a sea of black and blue waves, so he stepped back from it. Behind him, a black-haired ginger horse stood with Bayard’s saddle fitted on its back; it was a mustang with large black eyes and hooves. “Bayard,” he called it, happily, “you came back for me.” He realized he was holding a carrot in his hand, so he offered it to him and smiled when he took it. “Hey, Johan!” He turned around and saw Scruple, but the words spoken were from Peewit’s voice; this did not strike him as odd in the least. In fact, he greeted him as if he were his real best friend and noticed that the landscape changed again. This time when he looked out into the wintery region, the King’s castle was in sight, but it was twisted and free-floating in the midst of a chaotic collage of stones, dirt, and water from the moat. He could hear voices coming from inside. How he heard them, he didn’t bother to question, and listened. “Come back to us, Johan!” “We’re your friends, remember?” “My best knight, too. I considered him a son…” "Johan!” “Why are you there? Come back home, where you belong.” Scruple seemed to have grown several inches when he looked at him, hearing him snickering and mocking the voices. “What nut jobs, huh?” “They must be out of their minds if they think I’m leaving my home,” he replied with a side-smile and light chuckle. He shook his head. “Since when would I live there, anyways?” The boy shrugged and waved his hand at the castle, dismissing them for nonsense. “You, of all people, too! It’s just ridiculous.” Johan agreed and turned away from the castle, but Falla’s voice pierced him like an arrow. '' ''"Forgive me.” '' ''Suddenly, everything went blank, shifting to another dream. He was underwater surrounded by thin layers of grey, but his clothes were dry. A ray of light shone down, but a shadow cast next to him; when he turned his head to see the figure causing it, he discovered it to be someone’s body. He swam up to it and took hold of the arms, turning it around to view the face. '' ''It was Falla in a white nightgown, her hair down, and her skin was as pale as her clothes. She was a corpse – a frozen corpse. '' ''She vaporized in his arms the moment he uttered her name, and then a pain struck him in the heart so violently that he doubled over, clutching at his chest. He sank rapidly into the dark trench below and slowly faded out of consciousness with her words “Forgive me” repeated a final time. '. . .' He awoke to a bright sun streak blasting through his window, enlightening the entire room. It blinded him for a moment, and his eyes stung every time he blinked. Instead of getting up right away like he normally would, he rolled over and expelled a mournful sigh as he closed his eyes. His dream was extensive, so he could remember most of it; what struck him was the fact that he had scoffed at, essentially, his family and denied any memory of living in the castle – in his home. Eventually, he dragged himself out of bed, knowing that the brightness of the sun meant the morning was nearly over. That and he remembered Gargamel telling him, “The earlier the better” last night. He looked down and was hardly surprised he had slept in his clothes. He got to his feet, removing the tattered uniform to dress himself into his more comfortable, casual tunic, readjusted his belt so the buckle faced forward, mussed up his hair, and then left the room. “Good morning, Johan,” Falla greeted with a little smile, holding her hands behind her back. He jumped and replied, “Oh! Good morning.” She tilted her head to one side and studied him with narrowing eyes. “You did not sleep well,” she stated. “Perhaps you may enlighten me of last night’s happenings?” He shook his head and brushed past her, headed down the spiral staircase with her on his heels. “Later, Falla,” he mumbled. The dream lingered in his mind, but he wished he could forget it. “Hmm. Later, you say?” she replied. He nodded, glancing at her over his shoulder, so she added, “It’s always ‘later’ with you, isn’t it?” He didn’t answer. “You sure you’re okay?” “I’ll be fine.” They were almost at the bottom of the stairs by now. "But you're not fine now, are you?" He sighed through closed lips and picked up the pace, but so did she. "Later, Falla," he insisted. “Why not now? If you’re not okay, talking helps. What’s the rush anyways – are you going somewhere?” He stopped abruptly and whipped around, grabbing her arm with a stern glare in his eyes. “I would ''be fine if you stopped badgering me! I wanted to talk last night, but you requested silence, so why now when I'' request silence must you entwine me into conversation?” Then he let go and briskly turned away, headed to the stables. She was completely taken aback by his response, and hurt by the expression on his face. That was not her friend. She didn’t move for several minutes, and it wasn’t until Princess Savina and Dame Barbara passed her that she returned to reality. Savina tapped her shoulder and addressed her. “Yes, princess?” she mumbled, turning to see her. “We haven’t spoken in a while,” she said, warmly adding, “How are you?” Ordinarily, she would have chatted up a storm with her when given the opportunity, but something was wrong with her friend, and he came first. “I – can we talk later? I must see Johan right now,” she replied, pointing absentmindedly to the direction he had gone. Savina had a straight face as she agreed. “Thank you, princess.” She ran into the stables and saw Johan adjusting Bayard’s saddle. He was startled again and stepped away from his horse as she approached, holding the stirrups in his left hand. “What now, Falla?” he asked. She gently took it from him and looked him in the eye – seriously, but not angrily – and said, “Look, I know you didn’t get much sleep, but what you did back there wasn’t you in any way. Tell me what happened and I’ll leave you alone – deal?” They were silent, but he fidgeted until his chivalrous morale compelled him to answer. “…Something happened last night,” he admitted softly, hanging his head. Shame built up in his chest, creating a pressure, which he had grown used to by now. “Do you remember when we defeated Gargamel and Scruple for the Smurfs?” “Of course,” she replied, leaning forward to see more of his face. He lifted his head to meet hers, sensing this. “They crashed the Ball in disguise and Scruple replaced Peewit. He locked the real Peewit in the Storage Room in the kitchen – which I found out later – and ran off into the courtyards. I told him to stay close, so when he didn’t, I gave chase.” "Okay." “I caught him after a while and discovered that he was an imposter, so I demanded that he reveal himself and Peewit. He told me he was a pawn in his master’s plot to overthrow the kingdom, and like the trusting fool I am, I believed it and offered my assistance. Then he said he was thirsty, I said the same, and he brought some water for us –” “So, what happened with Gargamel?” she interjected, furrowing her brow a bit. He dug his foot into the ground subtly while saying, “I don’t know what he was passing off as. I only saw him when they were caught together by the guards.” He thought for a second. “Actually, I think it was one of the servants since he and the faux Peewit appeared at the same time…” Falla nodded, so he continued. "As I drank the last of the water, it suddenly tasted awful. Too little too late, I put two-and-two together and figured out who I was really dealing with.” “I’m so sorry, Johan…” She frowned. “What was in your drink? Poison?” “No, worse. It was a potion to –” The bells of the church rang outside, cutting him off, and the following single brass bell marked the hour: twelve o’ clock. His eyes widened slightly – it evoked the dreadful memory of Gargamel’s hovel in his dream. “I – I have to go. Someone’s waiting for me.” He grabbed the stirrups from her and led Bayard out of the stables as quickly as he could move him. Falla followed him closely, speaking while he mounted. “Wait, what was this potion made to do to you?” He kicked the beast’s sides, sending him into a rushed trot, but she ran after him. “Johan, tell me!” “Later, Falla! I promise I’ll tell you later!” And then he was across the drawbridge and disappeared into the forest, leaving her standing under the gates. '. . .' Nary an hour passed by the time he reached the hovel, having ridden as swiftly as possible, and leapt from the saddle when Bayard protested approaching it. He sprinted the remainder of the distance, afraid of the ground sinking beneath his feet like it had in his dream. He knew it wouldn’t, but it was too vivid a memory to ignore. What really scared him was his horse’s behavior. Gargamel was waiting for him in the open doorway with his hands at his sides and a deviously welcoming grin. He raised one hand and gestured for him to come. “Ah, there you are, young knight. I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten.” “No, sir, I could never forget this,” he replied, catching his breath, “Not after last night.” “Good, then you’ll be perfect for a simple task.” "I'm listening." Gargamel pulled a meager coin sack from his pocket and gave it to him with the following instructions: “Go into the forest and find the Smurf Village –” the boy’s stomach dropped “– and bring me six of the horrid little blue creatures.” “But – why must I? What will you do to them?” he asked. He tightened his grip on the sack. “''Gold'', my boy! Six Smurfs is enough to make genuine, beautiful, spendable gold, so get moving!” He pointed into the forest and added, “Bring them back before dusk.” Johan stepped back and whistled for his steed; Bayard trotted up to him cautiously, so he pulled himself into the saddle and took the reins. “What happens if I don’t have them by then?” “When the sun sets, the spell will take effect and you’ll become as nasty and black-hearted as me,” he said. With that established, the knight gave the horse a soft kick and directed him into the forest. Before he disappeared, however, he looked back and asked, “What do I get if I complete this task?” “The antidote, but only if you do exactly as I told you,” was the bitter response, “And no funny business, do you hear me?” Johan promised to be back on time and disappeared in the shrubbery and oaks, praying for his little blue friends. About ten or fifteen minutes passed when he reached a particular clearing near his destination, so he mustered up the courage to call out, “Papa Smurf!” It was weaker than his usual tone, so he cleared his throat and tried again, this time sounding like his normal self. “Papa Smurf! Where are you and the other Smurfs?” He checked over his shoulder after a twig snapped somewhere close by, but nothing was there, and suddenly he was greeted by Smurfette, Hefty, and Clumsy. “Hello, Johan,” the female announced happily. She seemed to be carrying a basket of leaves. He smiled a little and leaned to one side; the distance between them while he was atop Bayard seemed infinite. “Good morning, Smurfette,” he replied, “I was hoping you would be kind enough to lead me the village. I need to speak with Papa Smurf about urgent matters.”